


Melodrama

by Bowritestuff



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Blood and Violence, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Tsundere Bakugou Katsuki, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowritestuff/pseuds/Bowritestuff
Summary: For a second all of it was worth it. The constant semantics. The constant fighting, judgment and pressure. All of the stupid melodrama melted away. When he looked into his eyes he knew that things hadn’t entirely gone to shit.HUNGER GAMES AUIn which Katsuki Bakugou is the winner of the Hunger Games and in the aftermath of the games he struggles for things to return back to normal, but ghosts still pry at his consciousness. Enter Izuku, the thoughtful and charming Capitol boy who is determined to become friends with Bakugou and maybe something a litter bit more...
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	1. Dancing Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES: in this world people still have quirks and use them to fight in the games, making things even more deadly. 
> 
> New chapters every Tuesday!

Bakugou has never seen a more lavish party in his entire life. He stared out of the window of the limousine, his amber eyes taking in every detail as the car pulled around to the front of the president’s mansion.

_ And It’s all for me. _

“Are you ready?” Asked a man with long, dark hair slicked perfectly into a low ponytail. He wore a black, well fitted, suit with a hint of blazing orange lining the lapels and breast pocket. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, old man,” Bakugou snapped back.

“I'm tired of telling you Bakugou, my name is Aizawa, not ‘old man’. You know that most people at the party are not going to appreciate that mouth of yours.” 

“Whatever,” grumbled Bakugou. “They’ll love me anyway. Those dumbasses at the capitol still think it’s a quirky part of my personality and that when they meet me, they’ll be some kind of special exception or some shit. They think that I’ll treat them with some amount of respect.” 

“But you are going to be nice to them and treat them with respect anyway, am I correct?” Aizawa said. 

“Sure…sure.” Bakugou tugged at the bow tie around his neck. “This damn thing is too tight, I told that bitch to tie it looser than last time, but she didn’t listen.” He tried in vain to undo the small clip on the back of the bow tie, but his hands kept on slipping. “My stupid hands are too sweaty.”

“You know that it’s okay to be nervous. I was nervous when I went to my first party at the capitol.” Aizawa said, trying to offer some amount of comfort. 

“Oh yeah and how long ago was that? A hundred years ago?” Bakugou gave up messing with his bow tie and sneered at Aizawa.

“About twenty years ago. I was seventeen when I won my games,” Aizawa said. “I was young, only a little bit older than you and I was ten times as scared as you are now. You’re a natural at this kid, trust me, they’ll love you.”

Bakugou paused. The sneer slowly faded from his face. “Were you scared?” 

Aizawa shuffled forward in his seat. “I wasn’t just scared...I was completely terrified. Those people that you’re going to meet tonight are a different breed of human, one that is very different from what we are. These people that you meet tonight; they aren’t going to view you as a human. They are going to look at you and see you as an accessory, a fun little anecdote, a harmless little adventure.”

Bakugou felt his hands begin to shake. He quickly formed them into a fist to try and cover it up. 

_ Stupid. I can’t have anybody thinking I’m weak.  _

He took a deep breath in and straightened the too tight bow tie. “Ok, I’m ready.” Bakugou pushed the door to the limousine door open.

_ It’s showtime motherfuckers. _

The night sky was alive with an electric energy that seemed to wind its way through the cool night wind and pour out of every perfect party decoration. Bakugou strode up the walkway leading up to the mansion. Thousands of tulips, specialty bred for the occasion, lined the path. As Bakugou crested the walkway, the mansion came fully into view. Large spotlights of red, orange, and yellow were directed at the white building, lighting it up brightly for the occasion. Hundreds of people dressed in their finest clothes, wandered around the mansion grounds. Huge wooden tables groaned under the weight of large golden dishes overflowing with pork, duck, beef, grilled vegetables, and juicy fruit. At the center of the tables was a circular table with a ten-tier cake iced in the same colors that the president’s mansion had been lit up in. An infinite amount of lit candles burned on each tier of the cake.

“Look there’s Bakugou! He’s finally arrived!” Called out a random voice. 

_ Shit.  _

Instantly, Bakugou was met with the blinding flash of cameras as various photographers jockeyed to get a photo of the latest victor.He had to resist the urge to hold a hand up to block the flashing lights, instead he put on his trademark devilish grin. 

The same grin that he wore when he met his fellow competitors at the training center. The same grin that he wore when he showed his quirk off to the game makers. The same grin he wore when he was interviewed by the stupid guy who wore too much makeup. The same grin he forced onto his face after he...killed...no, won the games. The same grin he forced himself to have on his face at every stupid stop on his grand tour of the districts. Bakugou kept his gaze pointed straight forward as he strolled past all of the stupid paparazzi and further into the depths of the party. 

As Bakugou approached the steps leading up to the garden, the music being played throughout the grounds suddenly halted. The night was suddenly drenched in an overwhelming silence. It was so quiet that Bakugou could hear the sound of his own heart thumping loudly in his chest. 

Suddenly the silence was broken by the pounding of drums. Bakugou jumped out of surprise. The drums sounded hungry and chaotic, like they were hunting for something. Bakugou could feel the rhythm deep in his chest.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the victor of the forty-sixth hunger games! Hailing from district one! Katsuki Bakugou!” Announced a voice from some hidden loudspeaker. The crowd of partygoers all cheered loudly. On several screens positioned across the manicured lawn, clips of Bakugou played. Bakugou forced himself not to look away at the screen as a violent scene played of himself holding down a younger boy while forming an explosion in his hand. 

Bile rose up in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it. Bakugou looked at the faces of those around him. They all seemed to be completely enraptured by the bloody scene. Whenever Bakugou triumphed over another kid, they would cheer loudly. The ladies all covered their eyes in mock terror at the part where a girl with a quirk that gave her deadly aim threw a knife and it pierced Bakugou’s hand. 

Bakugou looked down at his hand, it took the stylist team a couple of hours to cover up the large scar that dominated the back of his hand. If he allowed his vision to linger on the place for too long, he could still feel the agonizing pain. 

The last scene of the highlight reel showed Bakugou standing over the final body, covered in blood. The Panem national anthem playing loudly in the background. Bakugou watched himself turn to the camera and scream loudly. He noticed that they edited out the next part when he dropped down onto all fours and begged the body for forgiveness as tears streamed down his face. 

The highlight reel ended and the screen faded to black. The pleasant music of the quartet returned. Laughter and chatter rose back up. As Bakugou walked deeper into the party, he was quickly crowded by adoring fans. 

“Ohhh Bakugou, sweetie you absolutely have to try this champagne it’s to die for,” said a voice laced with the pompous capitol accent. A lady with makeup closely resembling a clown and the longest eyelashes Bakugou had ever seen pulled him towards one of the tables filled with food. Bakugou wrinkled his nose in disgust at being called sweetie and he had to resist the urge to snap at the woman. A tall champagne drink was forced into his hand. “Drink up!” Said the lady. 

After watching the highlight reel, Bakugou was most definitely not in the mood to eat or drink anything, but he forced himself to drink the bubbly drink anyway. 

_ Maybe I can get myself wasted off of this shit.  _ Thought Bakugou.

A hand with four inch acrylics grabbed onto Bakugou’s arm, “You are so strong Bakugou!” Exclaimed another woman.

“Can you come to my after party?” Said a fat man wearing a lime green pinstripe suit.

“You have such a strong quirk.” Said another voice. 

“How does your quirk work?”

“What’s the biggest explosion you’ve ever made?”

“I adored you in that interview.”

“You are the best looking victor we’ve had in a while!” 

Hands grabbed and prodded at Bakugou’s body. He felt like an animal at a petting zoo. Everywhere he looked he saw plastic faces with too wide smiles painted on grotesque facial features. 

A shoulder bumped Bakugou’s hand, causing him to spill his champagne on the ground.

“Shit,” Bakugou cursed loudly. “Can you extras please be so kind as to leave me be for one fucking second.” 

The crowd only laughed at his harsh words.

“That’s Bakugou for you,” called out a voice, followed by more laughter. 

“Wow you guys really are stupid!” Yelled Bakugou, But they continued to ignore him. 

A growing sense of panic rose up inside of Bakugou. He didn’t know whether to scream or cry from it all. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by the crowd of people that surrounded him. For a split second, tears blurred his vision, but Bakugou forced himself to stop. 

_ Now is not the time to panic. I need to stay calm. Calm, cool, and collected. I’m not some scared kid who happened to survive some bad shit. I’m a victor.  _

He tilted the champagne glass back and chugged the last couple of sips. Someone noticed that Bakugou was out of his drink and called a server over. Bakugou’s empty glass was replaced with a full one and he quickly drank it up again. 

Slowly, Bakugou felt himself get the hang of things. He developed a rhythm of flirting with the women, answering the prying questions, and letting their hands caress his shoulders and arms. He would shoot a mischievous look at anybody who made eye contact with him and always made sure to have a glass of champagne in hand. That was by far the most important. 

As the night wore on Bakugou could feel himself starting to slip away, but he struggled to hold onto the meaningless conversation and constant compliments to keep himself from falling away. 

Somebody suddenly grabbed his hand. Bakugou slowly turned around to see who it was, ready to go off at whoever invaded his personal space. A pretty girl, wearing a poofy ball gown smiled shyly at him. Her hair was dyed various shades of pink and it hung in big ringlets around her face. She must have been wearing some kind of heeled shoes because she easily had a couple of centimeters on Bakugou. 

_ Shit, it’s just some random girl. _

The doors of the mansion had been thrown open to allow for a cool summer breeze to blow through the house and into the impeccably waxed ballroom floor. Women’s dresses glided along the floor as people waltzed across the room to the music provided by a talented quartet.

The girl’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

Bakugou wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What?” Bakugou yelled loudly.

The girl’s lips moved again, “Hello Katauki, want to dance?”. She squeezed his hand and leaned in close to Bakugou so that her entire chest was pressed up close against his.

“Sure whatever,” Bakugou said, trying his best to keep up the act.The girl giggled loudly and pulled Bakugou through the glass doors of the mansion which had been thrown open to allow for a cool summer breeze to blow through the house and onto the impeccably waxed ballroom floor. Women’s dresses glided along the floor as people waltzed across the room to the music provided by a talented quartet. 

The girl ran her hand up Bakugou’s chest and rested it on his shoulder. She laced the other hand between Bakugou’s sweaty fingers. For a second, Bakugkou stared dumbly at the girl. 

“You do know how to dance, right?” Asked the girl.

“Of course I know how to dance,” Bakugou snapped back. He roughly wrapped one arm around the girl’s waist and steered her around in sloppy circles across the dance floor. Bakugou’s shoe stepped on something hard.

“Ouch, my foot!” The girl dramatically cried out, tears formed in the corner of her eyes. 

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Bakugou quickly apologized, it took him all of his willpower not to roll his eyes at the girl’s dramatic reaction. 

_ Damn has she ever had her foot stepped on before? She needs to toughen up. _

“It’s okay just try not to do it again,” winced the girl. “If you do, then maybe I’ll have to tell daddy about it. He wouldn’t like to know that someone from the districts tried to hurt his daughter.” The girl giggled again.

Bakugou swallowed. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his forehead. Bakugou slowed their dancing down to a shuffle. The girl smiled innocently at him. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked. 

Bakugou’s ears were ringing ,his hands dripped with sweat. 

BANG. The dark sky exploded into bright shades of orange and yellow. 

“Ohhh look the fireworks are starting!” Exclaimed the girl, she let go of Bakugou and walked out of the ballroom. Everybody else around Bakugou seemed to be drawn to the firework display and out of the ballroom. He stayed inside, for the first time that night he was alone. 

Suddenly Bakugou felt like he was going to be sick. He looked frantically around for a bathroom. A sign posted at the side of the room, directed him down a long, white, hallway. At the end of it was a large bathroom. There were multiple stalls and urinals that lined the walls. Bakugou quickly ducked into the nearest stall and kicked the door shut behind himself. The contents of his stomach emptied out into the toilet bowl. Bakugou’s throat burned and his mouth tasted acidic. 

Bakugou slumped over the toilet bowl in defeat. He could just barely hear the muted boom of the fireworks from outside, but overall the bathroom was painfully quiet. Bakugou grinded his teeth together and clenched the pristine rim of the toilet bowl tightly. His head throbbed a steady beat. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his forehead.

Memories. Memories that Bakugou had kept locked nice and tightly in the back of his mind threatened to escape again. The pulsating countdown of a clock. Rolling down a grassy hill. Bright red blood, a sudden interruption to the calming shades of yellow in the tall grass. A thousand eyes staring at him as he walked across a stage. Blue skies and screams that were cut short. His name being called.

_ Boom _ ! The sound of a cannon. Bakugou jolted up onto his feet, banging his elbow on the side of the tiny stall in the process. 

“Fuck!” Bakugou yelled loudly. He leaned his forehead against the cool plastic of the stall door. His breathing felt fast and irregular and every time he tried to catch it, he lost it again. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. 

_ Stupid. It was just a firework, not a cannon. Why would a cannon go off during a party? Of course it wouldn’t, right? I’m safe now...right? Right?  _

“Right?” Bakugou whispered loudly to himself. His voice reverberated around in the quiet. 

The bathroom door creaked open loudly and for a brief couple of seconds the lively sounds of the party drifted into the bathroom, then it was muted by the gentle thump of the door closing. Bakugou quickly stood up straight and brushed himself off. He could hear footsteps slowly grow louder as somebody drew closer to his stall door. Bakugou stared intently at the crack underneath his stall door waiting. His entire body was at full attention. 

The footsteps stopped right in front of Bakugou’s stall door. Black dress shoes with a silver lining came into view. Bakugou watched the shoes closely. Orange and yellow silently began to grow in his hands. The shoes shifted around, then took a hesitant step forward. 

There was a soft knock on the stall door. “Hey is everything alright in there? I saw you run into the bathrooms in a big hurry earlier and I was just wondering if you were okay.” 

Bakugou stepped back and let the explosion forming in his hands die out. 

_ Idiot.  _ Bakugou scolded himself.

The voice on the other side of the door didn’t wait for a reply, “are you sick? I get sick sometimes too. Ummm, is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Do you want me to get you a glass of water? I...I can do that really fast.”

Bakugou stayed silent. 

“Hello?” There was a second knock on the door. “You haven’t said anything yet. Am I rambling? I tend to ramble? Um, hello?” 

_ Man, he just won’t shut the hell up.  _ Anger and annoyance rose up inside of Bakugou, but he kept silent. For some reason, he was still frozen in place. 

“Hellooo? You’re starting to make me feel a little bit worried. I’m going to get security or something if you don’t open the door.” 

_ Shit.  _

Bakugou finally forced himself to move and open the stall door. “Damn, I’m coming out now. You didn’t have to talk so fucking much. I’m okay. Okay?” Bakugou said to the perfect pair of dress shoes. He stubbornly refused to look the annoying person in the eyes. 

“Okay!” The shoes replied. “I’m just relieved to know you’re fine.” Bakugou felt a hand gently touch his elbow. 

“What the hell?” Bakugou exclaimed. He stumbled back into the stall like he had just been attacked.

_ That asshole! How dare he try and touch me?  _

His face was hot from anger, Bakugou prepared to let loose a barrage of insults and curses.

_ That fucking, little, dumb, annoying _ -

Bakugou glanced up at the face of the man who touched him.

_ Annoying... _

Bushy, forest green hair. Lively eyes the same color as grass. A thousand little freckles speckled across a tiny nose and down across the side of his cheeks and jawline.

“Hey, uh...sir?” Said the man. 

_ No not a man, a boy.  _ Thought Bakugou.  _ He’s just another teenage boy. He’s probably about my age or a little bit younger.  _

Bakugou quickly looked down again. His cheeks felt all hot and his hands were suddenly slick with sweat. 

“Shit,” Bakugou mumbled under his breath.

“Come again?” Asked the boy. 

“I'm going to wash my fucking hands.” 

Bakugou roughly pushed past the boy and marched over to the sink. As he ran his hands underneath the hot water, Bakugou couldn’t help but catch another glimpse of the boy’s reflection in the mirror. Bakugou’s eyes steadily stared at the other boy’s soft features. He watched as the boy nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot. He continued to look at the boy as he ran a hand through his poofy hair and stared up at the fluorescent bathroom lighting. 

The boy looked back down, right at Bakugou. Their eyes met. The freckles faced boy’s lips suddenly pulled into a smirk. BOOM! Bakugou looked away. There was a giant bang followed by clapping and cheering from outside the bathroom. Then there was silence, except for the soft hushing of running water from the faucet.The fireworks had come to an end. Bakugou looked up again into the mirror, but the smirk was completely gone from the boy’s face. 

_ Shit, I need to get out of here.  _

Bakugou quickly turned the water off and turned to leave. 

“My name’s Midoriya in case you were wondering. Izuku Midoriya.” Said the boy. 

“Oh,” the sudden introduction caught Bakugou off his guard. 

_ Midoriya.  _ The name echoed around Bakugou’s head. Bakugou swallowed hard. 

“And I already know your name. Not like I’m being creepy or anything ‘cause everybody here knows your name. You know, with you winning the games and being a favored tribute from the start and everything.”

“Oh so you’re just another capitol fucking fanboy.” Said Bakugou. 

“Oh no, not at all!” Exclaimed the boy, frantically waving Bakugou’s sudden accusation away. 

“Then what are you exactly?” Bakugou took a step forward towards Midoriya. A sharp crackle suddenly emanated from his hand. Izuku took a step backwards.

_ I’m a lot taller than this shitty nerd. I don’t care if he probably has a posh capitol quirk, I could probably take him in a fight. Maybe beating his pretty face up could help me burn some steam off.  _

“I want to be your friend,” Midoriya said. Bakugou stopped in his tracks.

_ What? _

“I...I want to get to know you, that’s all. I just want to talk and hang out and stuff,” he continued. Midoriya's cheeks were now a bright red. Bakugou didn’t even know how to respond. He was completely dumbfounded. 

_ Friend? This shitty nerd just wants to be friends with me? But I’m a kil-  _ Bakugou didn’t let himself finish his own thought.  _ Stupid.  _

“So um, can I be your friend?” Midoriya extended a hand out to the other boy like they were about to shake on some highly important business deal. 

Bakugou just shrugged his shoulders in response and stepped past Midoriya, ignoring his still outstretched hand.

_ I don’t know not to respond to this nerd’s fucking friend request.  _

Bakugou pushed the bathroom door open and stormed back into the party. Behind himself, he could hear Midoriya struggle to open the bathroom door and stumble to catch up to him. 

The lights in the ballroom had been dimmed and replaced with strobing party lights in bright shades of orange and yellow. Loud music pulsated from the speakers. Bakugou could feel every thump of the base deep in his chest. The ballroom was now completely packed with bodies that swayed with the rhythm of the music. 

“Bakugou! Hey Bakugou wait up! Bakugou!” Midoriya yelled over the deafening music. Bakugou continued to push through the sea of bodies, not looking back at Midoriya. “BAKUGOU!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs. 

Bakugou stopped and slowly turned around.

_ What the hell is wrong with this guy? _

A thousand pairs of eyes turned to look at the petite green haired boy. A wave of whispers swept through the crowd. Bakugou clenched and unclenched his hands tightly. 

Midoriya was breathing heavily from the sudden outburst, but he stayed his ground under the weight of the stares and whispers. Midoriya looked at Bakugou and Bakugou looked back at him. Midoriya smiled quickly back at him. Bakugou frowned. 

“Bakugou, this may be bold of me, but can I ask you for a dance?” Midoriya yelled over the loud music. 

_ What the hell? One moment this dumbass was stuttering his way through a simple conversation with me and the next he’s asking me to dance with all these extras watching.  _

Midoriya saw the confused look on Bakugou’s face and winked at him. Bakugou’s crimson eyes widened. His cheeks were on fire. 

_ Shit, shit, shit.  _

The onlooking crowd slowly began to chant, “say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes.” 

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

“Well?” Midoriya extended a hand out. 

The chanting grew louder in volume to the point that it almost drowned out the loud music, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Bakugou was backed up into a corner. How could the tables have turned so quickly? Bakugou forced any panic and fear that threatened to form in his mind away.

Bakugou smirked. “Of course I’ll fucking dance with you shitty nerd.” The crowd broke out into a chorus of whoops and cheers. 

Bakugou strode up to Midoriya and pulled him close. The shorter boy laced his hand together with Bakugou’s. The pounding beat of the music quickly washed over them and so they danced. They danced fast and wild and let the energy flow between one another.They danced awkwardly at some parts as Bakugou stumbled over the footwork. They danced like there was no tomorrow. 

Bakugou watched a bead of sweat run down the side of Midoriya’s freckled face. He admired the way the red lighting reflected in a sharp contrast with Izuku’s soft green eyes. As the night wore on, Midoriya pulled Bakugou even closer and laid a head against Bakugou’s chest. Bakugou felt all of the other sweaty bodies around him and the pounding music, but when he caught a glimpse of Midoriya’s green hair while dancing with him, he felt like he was at the eye of a hurricane. 

Compared to the dance that Bakugou had earlier with the whiny capitol girl, this felt a hundred times better.

_ Fuck. Who knew dancing with a shitty capitol boy could feel this good?  _ Bakugou hated himself that he liked dancing with this short green haired boy so much.

They danced the night away and up into the early hours of the morning. When the clock struck three in the morning, there were only a couple of other drunk couples out on the dance floor with Bakugou and Midoriya. The music had been toned down to slower and more quiet tunes. 

“Bakugou?” Called out a voice. An extremely exhausted looking Aizawa entered the ballroom and slowly began to make his way over to Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Shit, it’s my old mentor, Aizawa.” Bakugou said.

“Oh, um you’re leaving already?” Midoriya said into Bakugou’s shoulder. 

“Yeah I guess so,” Bakugou slowly detached himself from Midoriya. “I got to be going now, it was kind of nice dancing with you or whatever.” Bakugou said.

Midoriya’s eyes widened and he smiled, a huge smile that threatened to take up all of his face. “Well I had a great time with you.” 

“Bakugou it's time to go.” Aizawa called. 

“Im fucking coming!” Bakugou yelled back and he turned to leave, relief already washing over him that his trial by fire was almost over and that he had managed not to severely offend any of the people of the capitol. He was going home now and he would never have to really deal with anymore of this shit again.

“Wait one more thing!” Midoriya cried after Bakugou. Bakugou paused and waited for the green haired boy to catch up to him. Midoriya stood up on his tiptoes and whispered in Bakugou’s ear, “I’ll see you soon.” 


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakugou arrives back home at District One and reunites with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to switch up the posting schedule cause quarantine really has me writing 1000+ words a day. I’m now posting new chapters Friday and Tuesday.

Bakugou awoke to a shrill scream. His entire body jolted upward and he sat up. He swallowed hard, but his mouth was drier than the Sahara desert. Looking back and forth, he searched his room for any possible sign of danger. 

He suspiciously eyed a dark shadow in the room, the velvety blackness of the room forming into a tall, sinister figure. He stared back at the figure, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek. Any second the figure could jump forward and pin him down on his bed, grab one of the too soft pillows and smother him to death. He would lie there suffocating trying to blast the damn attackers face off, but for some reason he would be unable to. The palms of his hands wouldn’t be producing their normal hydroglycerin, instead they would just be sweating, normal slippery sweat. He would be completely defenseless, at the complete mercy of the deadly figure.

Bakugou blinked again and the figure was gone. The darkness had morphed into an elaborate lamp that he had thrown his blazer on last night. Slowly, reality began to creep back into Bakugou’s psyche. Flashes of last night played in his mind’s eye. He groaned out loud at the memories of all the stupid extras at the party.

_ So I was at the party then what?  _

Bakugou traced through his memories. Aizawa. Riding in a car. Getting on a train. 

Bakugou’s eyes roamed the room with its elaborate gold fixtures and gaudy floral wallpaper.  _ That’s where I am now. _

Bakugou flopped back down on the bed. He wiped his sweaty palms on the cotton sheets and finally noticed the gentle swaying of the entire room. The faint rushing noise as the train ran along the tracks. The screaming that originally woke him was just the train whistle blowing as the train ran over a bridge. Bakugou closed his eyes and tried to let sleep take over him again. A minute passed by as he laid there, staring at the back of his eyelids. Sleep was pressing down on his body, but his mind was wide awake. Memories of last night were swirling through the haze of his hangover. Gagging over a toilet bowl. Biting into the best piece of cake that he has ever had in his entire life. Dancing with a stranger till dawn. 

_ Who was that?  _ Bakugou strained his mind to try and remember. _ Was it that one girl?  _ Bakugou shuddered as he remembered the whiny tone of her voice. She sounded just like an ambulance siren.  _ Wasn’t her, It was somebody after her. _

Green flashed through his mind. Bakugou suddenly remembered him again. Dancing with a stranger till the party was over. They met in a…Bakugou’s memory trailed off. _ A closet?  _ Bakugou shook his head.  _ No that’s not right _ . A bathroom.  _ That’s it.  _ Bakugou remembered his shy personality, how he was always stumbling over his words, but how he could also be strangely confident at times. Freckles. Bakugou remembered his freckles. They fell over his nose and spread up the sides of his cheeks. He remembered how close they danced till the sky slipped into a deep shade of pink from the rising sun. Chest to chest.  _ Touching each other.  _

A knock at the door caused Bakugou to suddenly sit back up. Bang _!  _ A loud explosion went off in his hand. The white sheets instantly turned a singed brown.

“What! I was trying to get some fucking sleep!” Bakugou yelled. He ignored the nagging voice in his head taunting him for being a liar. 

“Open the door Mr. Bakugou!” Demanded the voice on the other side. “We’re set to arrive at the heart of district one in thirty minutes and I can’t have you getting off of this train looking like the same mess that I knew you were leaving that party last night.” 

Bakugou gave a loud growl that sounded closer to something that would come out of a feral animal and not a sixteen year old boy. 

“I’m still waiting,” said the voice.

“Jesus Christ! I’m coming okay?” Bakugou slid off of the bed and stomped over to the door. He pressed his hand to the sensor, unlocking it. The door slid open revealing an annoyed man standing on the other side. His blonde hair was immaculately swept to the side. He wore jeans from head to toe; his lanky, skinny frame only exaggerating the overwhelming look of the denim even more. He towered over Bakugou, his arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. 

“What do you want Hakamata?” Bakugou said. 

“It’s Best Jeanist and I’m here to once again perform the miracle that is turning you’re sorry self from the physical personification of a train wreck to one of Panem’s most desired gentlemen.” Best Jeansit replied as he stepped past Bakugou. 

Best Jeanist was one of Panem’s most skilled stylists. He had won countless awards for his perfect taste and he had studied at the most prestigious school of fashion design in all of Panem. Starting out as an assistant for the head stylist for district six, he worked all the way up to the highly coveted role of head stylist for district one. The district of champions.

Regardless of the bloody fate that the tributes for district one met in the arena, he always made sure that they looked beautiful, appealing, and most important of all, photogenic. Bakugou remembered hearing Best Jeansit mutter under his breath that at least he would look good when his picture was projected over the arena as he was putting the final touches on Bakugou’s look before he was lifted up into the arena. He also remembered having to hold back the uncontrollable urge to blow the man’s face off, right before the game started. 

The thing about Best Jeanist that got on Bakugou’s nerves the most was his insistence to be referred to by that stupid nickname. He had received the name in a magazine article praising him for his work with denim, his quirk allowing him to skillfully unwind and reconstruct the fiber at his will.

“Don’t be shy, close the door and get yourself in the shower.” Commanded Best Jeanist. 

Bakugou remained mute. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the ground, then he began to unbutton his dress pants. 

Best Jeanist turned around, for a second his eyes widened in alarm to see Bakugou standing there, half naked in front of him and still continuing to undress, but he quickly covered it up. 

“Oh...errr-Mr. Bakugou please get undressed in the shower.” His tone of voice made it sound more like a command than a request. Bakugou just rolled his eyes in response. He unzipped his pants the rest of the way and let them drop to the ground. As he undressed, he monitored Best Jeanist’s face, searching his features for a reaction. 

Bakugou continued to maintain eye contact with Best Jeanist as he began to pull his underwear down. A smirk played on his lips as he saw his stylist’s cheeks grow red from anger. 

“Bakugou stop this instance!” Commanded Best Jeanist. Bakugou continued to ignore him. “Bakugou I’m warning you! If you don’t-you need to stop this...this is absolutely outrageous!” 

Bakugou turned his back to the older man as the underwear dropped to the ground. He now stood in the middle of the room, stark naked. 

“Whatever stupid.” Bakugou said as he walked to the bathroom. He savored the way he left the usual arrogant Best Jeanist, bumbling and flustered. Sneering, he quickly turned around and flipped him off before shutting the door behind him. Bakugou instantly felt his muscles relax as he heard the click of the door automatically locking. 

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes scanned over the patchwork of scars that made up his body. A large pink scar that ran up the entire side of his body starkly stood out from the rest. It started at his left hip then wound all the way up his ribcage, and ended right below his collar bone. A violent shade of red suddenly flashed across Bakugou’s Vision. A set of long nails holding him down as he struggled to fight back. Heavy breathing. Searing pain in his side. Blurred vision. 

_ Whoosh.  _ Bakugou turned the shower on, the memories rushing down the drain along with the water. Bakugou got under the heavy stream of water, not really caring that the water was still freezing cold. 

_ I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror in a while. I look like fucking Frankenstein or a zombie.  _ Regret suddenly seized Bakugou, mixed with the stinging feeling of embarrassment.  _ Why do I act like that?  _ Bakugou felt himself wrestling with a foreign feeling. He felt that he was becoming increasingly more intimate with it against his own will. He felt like his skin was being pulled back and everybody in the world was staring at his bones and muscles underneath.

_ I’m used to people looking at me. I like it when people look at me, right?  _ Bakugou leaned against the cold tiled wall of the shower, allowing the increasingly hot water to hit his back. He let the automatic injected shampoo drip down onto his scalp. The sickeningly sweet smell of roses invading his senses.  _ I always liked the attention.  _

Bakugou got out of the shower before the washing cycle finished, he quickly toweled himself off and threw on a plush robe. He opened the door and was met with a still very angry Best Jeanist and his entourage of extras.

“Mr. Bakugou, sit down on this chair.” Bakugou was steered to a chair. 

“Can you give me your hand please?” Bakugou’s hand was pulled out from his body before he had time to respond.

“What should we do with his hair?” Said one extra.

“God I don’t know, leave it? Just don’t try and brush it down like we did that one time.” Replied another extra as she applied a heavy cloud of powder onto Bakugou’s face, forcing him to close his eyes tight against the onslaught. 

“That was a complete disaster!” 

“Ha tell me about it he nearly blew my hand off with that quirk of his!” 

“And hairs kept on popping up!” The extras burst into a fit of laughter.

A spark silently flickered in Bakugou’s palm. He hated it when they talked about him like that. Like he wasn't right there in the same room as them. For crying out loud, they were styling his own hair and putting makeup on him!

Twenty minutes passed and by the end of it, Bakugou was standing in the center of the room, Best Jeanist and the other extras admiring their work. 

“Excellent.” Best Jeanist said.

“For real he looks like a completely different person!” Exclaimed an extra.

“Mr. Bakugou how do you feel?” Best Jeanist asked.

“Like a damn cat that a three year old dressed up.” Bakugou shot back as he tugged on the too tight crotch of his dress pants. “This sweater is too itchy,”Bakugou continued. He scratched at the woolen material of the turtleneck. 

“Stop that Mr. Bakugou, you’re going to cause a loose thread.” Best Jeanist said. 

An ear splitting shriek ran throughout the car as the train slowed to a stop. The crew gathered their things and Bakugou was led out of his room and toward one of the main exits of the train. Aizawa and the escort for district one, Hizashi Yamada were already there waiting for him. They didn’t exchange any words, just looked at each other. Aizawa’s dark circles still managed to push through the layers of concealer on his face. Aizawa nodded his head at the door.  _ You go first.  _

_ Here we fucking go.  _

The door opened and Bakugou was hit with the fresh blast of mountain air.  _ I forgot that the air hits differently up here. _ Bakugou took another breath in, savoring every last breath of carbon dioxide that flowed into his lungs.  _ Man, I missed district one.  _

He stepped out onto the train platform and was met with a sea of eyes watching him. For a second it was painfully quiet. Each step that Bakugou took echoed out across the train platform. There was no music playing, no cheers, not even applause. Just an icy wall of silence with a row of peacekeepers at the front of it all. Bakugou looked out across the sea of people.

_ Where the hell is he?  _

The silence continued to stretch on, becoming more apparent with each passing second. 

_ Why is it so damn quiet? Shouldn’t people be cheering? _

Bakugou looked behind himself at where the other extras were emerging onto the platform. 

_ Shit.  _ Bakugou suddenly remembered what he was supposed to do. He quickly made his way over to the microphone stand that was placed off to the side of the stage, wondering how he didn’t notice it till now. He quickly patted himself over and found the cue cards that Yamada had written up for him. Bakugou squinted at the curly handwriting. He could feel himself begin to sweat under the weight of the stares. 

_ Greetings...blah,blah,blah...victor...blah,blah...reward...some shit about how it was an honor.  _

Bakugou quickly glanced up and scanned the crowd again. Disappointment kneaded it’s way into Bakugou’s chest. He slid the cards into the back of his pant pockets.

_ Fuck it, I’m going to wing this.  _

“Hello...people, you probably already know who I am. After all, I was your main source of entertainment for two weeks or whatever.”

In the background Bakugou could hear loud whispering from Yamada, “oh my god, he’s going off script!” 

“The thing is you watched me win and survive and stuff, cause I’m a winner. I always have been and I always will. I’m number one!” Bakugou could feel himself begin to gain momentum with each word. The confidence in him leading him forward. “I was raised and trained for my entire life for this moment. I was able to blow the competition out of the water ‘cause I’m the best. I am the best, the strongest, the fastest. I played the damn game better than anybody else ever could.”

Bakugou licked his lips and looked into the camera lense, preparing to deliver the final line. The line that he had watched so many others deliver before him, “Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.” 

With those final words Bakugou stepped back from the microphone, stuck his hands deep inside his pant pockets and hopped off the stage. For a couple of seconds the crowd stood there, expecting for the young, handsome, tribute to say more. A lone person, somewhere out in the crowd began clapping and applause spread out like a wave throughout the rest of the crowd. 

Bakugou walked through the crowd and they parted around him like he was Moses parting the Red Sea. He ignored the calls of Yamada and the others for him to come back. Bakugou’s eyes roamed the faces of the crowd as he strolled through. He tried his hardest to look like he didn’t care, like he wasn’t looking for someone. 

_ Only losers look for people. _

A flash of black caused his face to light up against his will. Bakugou’s steps slowly picked up in pace, until he was jogging through the crowd.

“Hey!” Bakugou called out as he roughly pushed past an older man. “Hey! Slow the hell down!”

The flash of red stopped and turned around, visibly confused. 

Bakugou felt his hopes shatter like glass on the pavement. “Wrong person,” Bakugou mumbled to himself as he turned away. 

There was a soft tap on his shoulder, “Looking for me?” Said a rough, familiar sounding voice.

Relief. That’s all that Bakugou felt, even before he turned around to confirm who it was, overwhelming relief. Bakugou swerved around and without thinking he hugged the voice.

“Enji,” Bakugou said, his voice wobbling.  _ Fuck, I think I’m going to cry.  _

“Katsuki,” The voice replied as strong, arms wrapped around Bakugou, hugging him back.

“Kirishima Enji,” Bakugou’s voice rose up a higher octave. 

All around them he could feel a million different eyes boring into him. He could hear faint whispering winding its way around them.  _ Shit. Shit. Shit. They’re going to think I’m weak.  _ Bakugou roughly pushed Kirihsima away. He quickly ran a hand through his hair and tried his best to recompose himself. His cheeks felt hot. 

“Jesus, don’t touch me like that.” Bakugou said loudly hoping that all of the onlookers blatantly staring at them heard.

Hurt flashed across Kirshima’s face, but he quickly covered it up with a large toothy grin. “Sorry bro, I’m just happy to see you made it back!” 

_ Damn. He’s good at playing along. To be fair, he’s always been pretty good at playing along with me and all of my lameness. _

Kirishima looked Bakugou in the eyes and Bakugou could tell that he was reading him like a book. Kirishima stared down at Bakugou’s hands as he wiped them off on his pants for the millionth time in the last couple of minutes. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Kirshima said suddenly and before Bakugou could protest he grabbed him by the sleeve and led Bakugou through the crowd and into the heart of District One. They passed by all of the onlookers, but no matter how much they stared and whispered, Kirishima strode forward, lugging Bakugou along. 

Kirishima was always weirdly confident in that way. On his own, he was always uncertain and hesitant, but with Bakugou he was like fire and gasoline, he grew and shone brighter than ever before. Bakugou remembered when they met for the first time in special training for the games. Kirishima was the quiet boy in the corner who aimed to be perfectly mediocre with what he viewed as a perfectly mediocre quirk. Bakugou aimed to be first, to be the best, to be noticed. He had a flashy quirk, was loud and scared most of the other people selected to train with him half to death, including the instructor. 

Bakugou remembered being paired up with the quiet redhead to spar and how he had practically screamed at Kirishima for accidentally brushing into him while they waited for their turn on the mat. He expected him to react like how most people did, which was by lapsing into a fearful silence and taking the verbal assault silently, maybe even shedding a tear. Instead he turned to Bakugou with a renewed confidence, looked him in the face and smiled. Bakugou was completely taken back for a second. 

“I'm excited to spar with you, you’re really strong,” Bakugou remembered him saying. Bakugou just snorted loudly in response and tried his best to ignore the comment, but the weird thing was that when they got onto the mat, Kirishima was actually pretty strong as well. He could block most of Bakugou’s attacks and even managed to land a couple of hard punches. He never stepped down and showed any fear while he stood toe to toe with Bakugou. After that, he stuck to Bakugou like glue.

Kirhsima pulled Bakugou into a darker, back alleyway between the district's cobbler and employment office and away from all of the prying eyes. 

Krishima’s eyes scanned their surroundings. “I think we should be alone now.” 

“Hey shitty hair.” Bakugou growled.

“What?”

“You can let go of my damn sweater now.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Kirhsima said. He quickly let go of Bakugou and took a step back so that his back was against the opposite side of the ally. 

A brief silence lapsed over them and Bakugou took the time to study Kirishima. He had only been gone for about three months, but it might as well have been for a decade. Everything about Kirishima had changed. He had somehow managed to get a little taller, but Bakugou was relieved to see that he still hadn’t yet gotten taller than him. He had also put on more muscle so that when he folded his arms around his chest, there was a clear bulge of his bicep that Bakugou could have sworn wasn’t there before. 

His hair had grown out longer and he had let the darker, natural roots of his hair come through more. The black had faded softly into the vibrant red that Kirishima insisted on dying his hair using beet juice that he bought from the local district one market. His skin had also browned slightly from the sun and the seasonal sprinkling of freckles that he got on his shoulders had developed, but by far the most prominent change in him was the dark circles underneath his eyes. They stood out like blaring alarms in Bakugou’s mind.

_ He looks so...tired.  _ The thought crossed Bakugou’s mind before he could stop it and concern wound it’s way around his consciousness. “Damn it, you need to sleep more.” Bakugou mumbled underneath his breath.

“What?” Kirshima said.

“Nothing.”

Kirishima took a step closer to Bakugou and squinted his eyes up. He tilted his head and leaned in closer to the other boy. Bakugou could feel his warm breath against his skin. 

“Stop looking at me! You’re freaking me the fuck out!” Bakugou protested loudly.

Kirishima ignored his protest’s. “You’re wearing eyeliner.” He whispered so quietly that for a second, Bakugou thought it was the whistle of the mountain wind.

Any further curses and protests stalled in Bakugou’s throat.  _ What?  _ His eyes dropped down to the ground and a small part of his hard outer shell crumbled away. 

“I know. The stupid stylist’s put it on me...feel like a damn racoon.” Bakugou muttered, trying his best to rebound.

Kirishima smiled again, a short laugh escaping his lips that ended abruptly in a snort. Bakugou didn’t understand that what he said was so funny, but he didn’t really care. He would never admit it, but he missed hearing that laugh. 

“You never change.” Kirishima said. “But hey, it suits you.” 

There was another long pause between the two of them. Bakugou fidgeted around and rubbed his sweaty hands on the front of his sweater. He saw that Kirihsima was staring at the scar on hand, the stylist hadn’t bothered to cover it up this time. 

“You know that I was scared you wouldn’t make it out.” Kirishima finally said, shattering the silence.

_ Oh god why is he talking? I don’t want to talk. No, I’m actually fine with talking, but not about this. Anything in the world, but fucking this.  _

“Shut up.” Bakugou growled.

“Oh c’mon Bakugou. I was really worried about you.”

“Shut up.” Bakugou said again, raising his voice.

“You know...you know that everytime you got hit back there…” Kirshima’ eyes began to water up. “And...and all I could do was watch you. Sit and watch you on that stupid screen.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Kirhisma continued to talk. “I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out towards Bakugou, but he slapped it away.

“Why are you fucking apolagizing?” Bakugou demanded. His hands crackled.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“What?” Bakugou blinked hard, his vision blurred.

“I’m sorry Katsuki.”

“What does that even mean? Look, it happened, but it's over now. Did you doubt me? Did you think I wouldn’t win? Did you think I was weak?”

“No, not at all you’re the strongest person I know. I just want to help you feel better. I can see that you’re hurting.”

Bakugou interrupted. “Well you’re wrong. I’m not hurting at all.I fucking showed you. I’m still alive. I fucking showed everybody. I don’t need to be saved. So...so ha.” A loud explosion suddenly went off in his hands, Kirishima quickly activated his quirk in response, blocking it.

“Please listen to me!” Kirishima pleaded. 

The two of them stood toe to toe. Bakugou was breathing heavily and the right half of Kirishima was still hardened. Bakugou turned away from Kirishima, shoved his hands deep in his pockets and stomped away. Behind him, he could hear Kirishima calling his name, but the ringing in his ears drowned it out. 

_ Who does he think he is? He needs to learn his place. I’m sorry. What the hell is that even supposed to mean? Sorrys have never fixed anything.. _

Bakugou paused at the end of the street and realized that he was unconsciously heading to his old house. He turned around in the other direction and stormed the rest of the way through town and down the smoothly paved road that led to the victor’s village. All of the houses that lined the road were nearly three times the size of the average District One house with large stone fronts and intimidating wooden doors. The front of the houses were immaculately maintained with rows of perfectly trimmed hedges leading up to the front steps. 

Bakugou scanned the identical rows of houses. He knew that his parents were probably inside one of the houses and he racked his memory to remember what number the house was. Then he remembered that the keys were inside of his pant pockets. He silently thanked Mic for thinking of everything and Bakugou’s perception of him improved slightly. He fished around in his pockets and pulled out the keys. The golden ring that held them glinted in the sunlight. House #14 was ingrained on the chain. 

Bakugou climbed the steps to the house and pushed the door open.

“Katsuki” Mitsuki Bakugou called out loudly. Before Bakugou had time to rest, he was tackled in a bear hug. The arms squeezed him tight as a large kiss was planted on his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re finally back. It took you long enough.” The hug stopped and his mom held him back at arms length. Her eyes, the same as Bakugou’s scanned his entire body. Her lips tugged into a frown, but it quickly changed into the signature Bakugou family scowl. “Masaru, get over here and hug your son.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to protest, but he was quickly cut off by Mitsuki, “Don’t you dare say anything Katsuki.” Mistuki hugged him again tightly. 

“I don’t know, maybe we should give him some space…” Masaru said hesitantly. 

“Nonsense.” Mitsuki shot back. Bakugou growled loudly, his mom was on the verge of cutting off all circulation on the top half of his body.

“Are you--” Masaru responded.

“Shut your mouth and hug him before he explodes this entire house!” Mitsuki shouted.

There was a loud  _ ahem  _ behind them, breaking up the family reunion. The Bakugou’s all turned to look at a tall man wearing a black suit that stood behind them. 

Dread filled Bakugou.  _ Who is that man? _

Masaru ran a hand thrrogh his hair and sided up next to the tall man, “Err, Bakugou this is Mr. Yamada from the Capitol. He is here to talk to you about something important.”

Mr. Yamada smiled at Bakugou. A shiver went down Bakugou’s spine when he saw that Yamada had implanted fangs on his incisors. They glinted unnaturally in the light. 

When Yamada spoke, his voice was so deep that it rumbled like a lion’s roar. “Can I meet with you in private.” The man’s dark eyes scanned the room. “Not in here perhaps in the office. This house does have an office?” Yamada asked. 

Masaru and Mitsuki both nodded. Masaru gestured down the front hallway, “Second door on the left.” 

“Perfect,” Mr. Yamada said. “I have a very, very interesting proposition for you Bakugou. Very interesting indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave any feedback, compliments, or comments! They are always very much appreciated😊


	3. Let the Bidding Commence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakugou has a meeting with a terrifying man and is sentenced to a new round of torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick clarification, Yamada is an OC that I made up for this chapter and the last, I’m currently unsure if he will make appearances in future chapters. Also I know my updating schedule is awful...

Mr. Yamada pushed the door open to the office and held it open for Bakugou. As he passed the older man, he could feel his heavy breath on the back of his neck. Bakugou couldn’t help but work out ways that he could fight back against the man if it came to it.

_ He has a couple of centimeters on me and he probably weighs a good fifty or so pounds more than me _ . Bakugou thought as he glanced down at Yamada’s prominent beer belly that swelled over the top of his jeans.  _ But I’m in better shape and I’m probably faster too. I don’t know what his quirk is though... _

Yamada closed the door tight shut behind Bakugou then turned the door’s lock with a loud click. 

_ Shit. _

Bakugou swallowed hard and his eyes frantically darted around the room. In the middle of the room like an island in the center of the sea stood a heavy oak table. The sides of the table were ornately carved into a design of swirling vines and the table’s feet were curled to mimic a lion’s feet. On each side of the desk were two sturdy leather chairs. Lining all sides of the room were bookcases that groaned under the weight of various flower vases, empty picture frames that had yet to be filled, and waxy candles. Ironically enough, the shelves were completely bare of books. At the front of the room was a large window with sunlight that streamed into the room, forming strips across the freshly waxed wooden flooring. 

_ I could probably push a bookcase on top of him. Or hit him over the head with one of the flower vases, that would probably hurt like hell. I could also make a giant explosion, then push his ass out the window while he’s distracted. _

“Have a seat Bakugou,” Said Yamada, gesturing to the seat. Bakugou immediately sat, hating himself for the dog-like obedience.

“What do you want from me?” Bakugou demanded, his voice breaking embarrassingly at the end. A bead of sweat silently ran down the side of his head and plopped down onto the arm of the chair.

Yamada sneered at Bakugou, “Oh, drop the act now. Nobodys here to see the real you.”

“Fuck you, this is the real me.” Bakugou growled. An explosion crackled in the palm of his hand. Yamada looked down at it, unimpressed.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He reached underneath the desk, causing Bakugou to tense up even more. There was a soft click and suddenly a projection manifested in the center of the table. 

Bakugou’s pupils widened. Sickening recognition filled his insides. Memories flashed through his mind’s eye. The bitter taste of bile rose up in his throat and he had to swallow hard to keep it down. 

Yamada continued, “But, I saw the real, unedited footage of your games. I know that you’re not the tough guy that you want to present yourself as being.” 

Bakugou stared silently at the projection. He tried to force himself to look away, but it was like an awful car wreck, the more he wanted to look away, the longer he ended up staring. On the projection played a compilation of clips of his game. Bakugou crying out in fear after a girl from District Three electrocuted his female counterpart to death right at the start of the games. Bakugou with tears in his eyes after being betrayed by the pack of careers and waking up to find himself pinned underneath the weight of long talons. Bakugou crying himself to sleep in a small burrow that he had managed to dig for himself while he nursed a cut in his hand that wouldn’t stop bleeding no matter what he did. Bakugou screaming at a dead body on the ground to wake up 

“I know the real you.” Mr. Yamada said. “There’s no point in hiding, but--” He clicked the button underneath the table and Bakugou had to fight the urge to cover his eyes out of fear of what awful things could possibly play next. The projection switched to the reaction of the people of the Capitol. They were all clapping and cheering as they stared, transfixed at their screens. “They didn’t get to see my version. The Capitol people liked the show you put on for them back there. They bought the persona that you’ve created. They are very, very fascinated with you.”

“Get to your fucking point already,” Bakugou barked. He quickly wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hands, wondering when they had gotten wet. 

“Certain members of the Capitol are willing to pay very high amounts of money for you to come back and...keep them company.”

“What do you mean by company?” Bakugou asked hesitantly. 

“Company can mean whatever they want it to mean.” 

“So I could basically be a glorified prostitute for some of them?” Bakugou snarled.

“Please try to not be so vulgar.” Yamada said. 

Bakugou leaned back in his seat and tried his best to catch his breath that he hadn’t realized that he had lost. “What if I don’t want to do this?”

Mr. Yamada smiled and folded his hands. He leaned over the desk closer to Bakugou. “Do you remember Suzuki Riku?”

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows. “He was the winner of the thirty-nineth Hunger Games right? He was from here, District one. I think his quirk had something to do with being able to produce spikes out of his body.”

“Indeed. You have a sharp memory, Bakugou.” Yamada said in an approving tone. “But I’m sure that you’re well aware that he died rather suddenly, only five or so months ago. Quite a shame considering it was on the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday.”

Bakugou had a suspicious feeling that he knew where this was going. “He died of alcohol poisoning.” Bakugou murmured.

Yamada’s fangs glistened, “Yes...alcohol poisoning. Anyway, he was also a darling of the Capitol. He was very popular and he would often perform his role of keeping people company very well. Until one day, he decided that he didn’t want to be a companion aymore.” 

“So you got rid of him. Buried him six feet under the fucking ground,” Bakugou said. He stood up suddenly, the leather chair scraping against the wooden floor with a loud screech. Bakugou leaned closer to Yamada. He planted one hand against the table and held the other up threateningly, light already began to gather in it. “I fucking dare you. I dare you to try and hurt me. It’s not like it would even matter anyway. I’ve already been through hell and back. Death doesn’t scare me!” Bakugou yelled.

Mr. Yamada remained perfectly calm, in fact he looked almost bored. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat again. “Please sit down Bakugou, before I have to make you.”

“Oh I’d love to see you try!” Bakugou continued to yell. His eyes were wild. His blonde hair was slick with sweat. A vein bulged dangerously from his neck. 

“That’s where you are very wrong. I’m not going to hurt you Bakugou.”

The explosion died in Bakugou’s hand. He slowly dropped it to his side. “What?”

“The difference between you and Sizuki, is that Sizuki didn’t have any friends or family. He was an orphan and a loner. You on the other hand…” Yamada clicked the button underneath the table and the projection changed again. “You have people you care about.”

Bakugou’s blood went cold. A gasp escaped his lips. On the screen played security camera footage of Kirishima and him from only thirty minutes ago. He watched as the two of them conversed silently.

_ No, not him. Don’t hurt him. _

Bakugou sputtered and tried to take a breath in. “W-where did you get that from?” Bakugou demanded. 

“I have my ways.” Yamada said. 

Bakugou sat back down. He could feel his shoulders slump slightly in defeat. 

_ Shit. _

“So which is it?” Yamada asked. 

Bakugou remained silent. His mind felt like a carousel revolving in constant circles over and over again as he tried to work out the situation. A possible way where he could win and still keep those he cared about safe.

“I’m sure you’re capable of making an intelligent decision,” Yamada said.

Bakugou chewed on his bottom lip to keep the tears from rising up. Another bead of sweat dropped down onto his lap. Bakugou glanced up at the projection again. He looked at the way Kirishima looked at him, at the way his eyes tried to comfort him. Bakugou felt himself break. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to keep them safe, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt them. ‘Cause I swear to God if you do, I’ll hunt you down to the ends of Panem and kill you.”

Yamada smiled, “Understood. I’ll give you thirty minutes to pack.”

“What?” Bakugou exclaimed. 

“We’re leaving now. The people of the Capitol are absolutely starving to see you again.” Yamada stood up and walked across the room and opened the office door. Masaru and Mitsuki quickly jumped back and tried their best to act like they were not just eavesdropping on the conversation. 

Bakugou walked out of the room. He felt like a corpse on the inside, but he still forced a scowl on his face. “It turns out I have to leave again. Fukcing unbelievable! The extras at the Capitol can’t get enough of me.” He pushed past both of his parents while fixing his eyes down at his feet, it was easier to look down than see their worried expressions.

“Your stuff has all been moved upstairs. How long will you be gone for?” Masaru asked.

“About three weeks.” Yamada answered for Bakugou. “I’ll be waiting for you at the front door.” He checked his watch, “We don’t want to miss our train.”

~~~

  
  


Bakugou stood on the train platform, again. A steady ache from holding a heavy suitcase had developed in his right hand. The suitcase was full of clothing that he would never rather die in a fiery car crash than have to wear. Apparently becoming victor meant having all of your clothing be thrown out and replaced with the “newest Capital trends.” Mr. Yamada stood at the train platform, looking down the tracks for the train to arrive. He pulled out a dark pair of sunglasses and slid it onto his face, somehow managing to make his intimidating features even more exaggerated. 

Bakugou tapped his foot impatiently.

_ When’s the damn train coming? My hands are fukcing killing me.  _

Bakugou opened his mouth to complain about when the train would get there, but his question answered itself when a loud whistle echoed through the air. A low rumbling filled the air. At first it sounded distant, but quickly it grew louder and louder. Bakugou squinted in the distance and could make out the train in the distance. The train rounded the final bend and broke with a loud screech. A smartly dressed conductor got out from a door that smoothly opened from the side of the train. 

“All boarding!” Called out the conductor and Bakugou had to resist the urge to scoff at the man’s semantics. 

_ Jesus, we’re the only ones here.  _

Bakugou and Mr. Yamada gathered their things and got onto the train. As soon as Bakugou got on the train he threw his suitcase on the ground and plopped himself down in the nearest window seat to the door. Yamada followed closely behind him. He paused at his row and Bakugou made sure to make himself look as intimidating as possible by slumping down in his seat and narrowing his eyes. 

_ Don’t you fucking dare. _

Yamada just shrugged his shoulder and smirked at him again, he continued walking past Bakugou and further back into the car. As soon as he passed by him, Bakugou could feel his muscles untense. With a loud sigh Bakugou looked out the window as the train slowly picked up pace, The mountainous landscape turned into a gentle blur of grey, orange, and green. 

Bakugou allowed himself to mentally check out. His mind shifted into a strange place in which it would rambl and run through different scenes and thoughts. One thought would form and drift through, then be replaced by another, none of the thoughts fully connecting or relating to each other.

_ What will happen to me? I hope whoever the fucker is that choses me to be their companion isn’t creepy or super old. Kirishima...I didn’t get to tell him goodbye. Whatever he was being an ass anyway. His eyes looked nice today. I didn’t get to have any of my mom’s cooking. Shit, I miss my mom and dad. I wonder who that boy was that I danced with last night. Why can’t I remember his damn name. My head hurts like hell... _

The gentle rocking of the train lulled Bakugou to sleep, but in what seemed to be only a minute he was being woken up again and the train ride ended. Bakugou was escorted off of the train and led to a car. Relief filled him when he saw that Yamada was getting into a different car than him.

“This is where we part ways,Bakugou. I have other matters to attend to.” Yamada said to him as he bent his large frame into another car. 

Bakugou just silently glared at him in response and made sure to flip the car off as it drove away.

_ Yeah and I better never see your ugly fucking face ever again.  _

Bakugou got into his own car and it drove through the perfectly paved streets of the Capitol. The bright and exotic fashion of the people flashed past the window and the pearly marble of the gigantic buildings glistened in the sunlight. Instead of staring in awe like he had done only a couple of months ago, Bakugou elected to stare at the dark inside of his car. A knot in his stomach slowly began to grow with each passing second. 

The car slowed to a crawl and Bakugou looked up out of the window. His knot in his stomach twisted. They were in front of a theatre, large columns supported a domed ceiling that crested into the darkening sky. People were pouring in. Women clutched their large purses and teetered on heels while clinging to the arms of men with elaborately styled and dyed facial hair. Gleaming lights flashed in the front of the theatre, but no particular message or advertisement was displayed.

“Hey what the hell are we doing here!” Bakugou demanded, but as soon as he opened his mouth he knew it was useless, there was no way that they would answer his question. 

The car pulled around the back of the theatre, into an alleyway and came to a complete stop. The engine died and Bakugou’s door was opened. He was escorted quickly to the back door and it immediately opened to let him in as soon as he approached it. Bakugou was led around a bunch of dark hallways with so many twists and turns that he was sure that he was being guided through a labyrinth. 

  
  


Finally they came to a stop at a black door with Bakugou’s name written hastily on it. When the door opened Bakugou had to avoid all urges to blow the damn roof off of the building. 

“Well hello Bakugou,” Said Best Jeanist. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The usual swarm of extras buzzed around Bakugou and poked and prodded at him as they removed his old outfit off and pulled a new one on. 

When he was once again finished, Bakugou was left for a couple of seconds to stare at his reflection in the full body mirror. Anger stewed inside himself. This time he wore a tight fitting black turtleneck layered with a grey sports jacket. Black pants and stupid leather loafers completed the look. The eyeliner was reapplied in a new layer and the scar on his hands had been masterfully covered up.

_ Of course they put the shitty eyeliner on again. All to make me look “presentable”. Whatever that's supposed to mean.  _

Bakugou ran a hand through his hair and tried to force his signature devilish smile on his face, but his eye remained dead and empty. 

Bakugou was ushered to the wings of the stage. A stylist quickly applied one last layer of powder in his face, causing him to sneeze while another one counted down silently. 

_ Three. _

Bakugou rolled his neck, causing it to crack satisfyingly. 

_ Two. _

He wiped his hands on his pants. 

_ Shit, they're sweaty. _

_ One _

_ Out of the frying pan and into the fucking fire. _

Bakugou forced a scowl on his face, stuffed both of his hands into his pockets and strode on stage. For a brief moment, Bakugou was completely blinded by the bright stage lights. He blinked twice and had to resist the urge to hold up a hand to shield against the lights. A polite wave of applause surrounded him. In the center of the stage was a single armchair. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, take a seat,” Said a voice from across the stage. Bakugou glanced over at the voice and saw an older man, shuffling papers on a podium. 

He stayed standing, “What?”

The man turned to look at Bakugou, his wrinkled forehead crinkled even more in annoyance. “Please take a seat in the chair provided so bidding can start.”

_ Bidding? _

The single word hit him like an electric shock, running through his entire system and reverberating in his mind. 

Bakugou slowly stepped toward the chair. Each footstep echoed around the room like thunder in the night sky. Bakugou’s heart was pounding. He swallowed hard and slowly took a seat, wiping his hands on his pants. Bakugou’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light and he squinted across the dark audience, trying to make out the faces of the people who were watching him. 

“Let’s let bidding commence starting at $5,000 for three weeks time with the victor of the forty-sixth Hunger Games.” Said the old man on the stage. Realization slowly hit Bakugou that he was not any old man, but an auctioneer.

For a brief moment there was suffocating silence. Hope flitted through Bakugou’s mind, but it ultimately slipped through his outstretched fingers.

“Five thousand!” Called out a voice. 

_ No. _

“Ten thousand!” Said another.

_ No.  _

Bakugou’s fingernails scraped up into the plush fabric of the armchair. He dug in tight hoping that this was all some awful nightmare.

“Fifteen.”

_ No. _

“Twenty!”

_ This is worse than being pinned down during the games. At least I could fight back then. Punch something. Yell. Kick and scream... _

“Thirty!”

_ No. No. No. No. _

“Fifty!” Said a voice from the audience to Bakugou; left.

“No.” Bakugou started to whisper underneath his breath.

“Eighty Thousand!” Cried out another, this time from the center of the audience.

“No, no, no.”

“One Hundred Hundred Thousand!” Called out the voice from the left.

“No, no, no,”

“Two Hundred!” Shot back the voice from the center.

“Five Hundred Thousand!” Said the voice from the left. 

There was a long pause. Bakugou bit down hard on his lip. The sweet, iron tang of blood filled his mouth. 

“Five Hundred Thousand! Going once!” Called out the man. “Going twice.” Time slowed in Bakugou’s mind to a painful crawl. The man raised up his gaveline, the immaculately polished wood glistened under the stage lights. The gavel gradually descended down towards the podium. Bakugou wanted to scream.

“No, no, no!” 

“One million!” Called out the voice from the center. “One million dollars!”

_ What?  _

A wave of murmuring rolled through the crowd. 

_ It's not over. _

The auctioneer nervously tugged on the collar of his shirt, “W-well, One million!” Repeated the auctioneer. “Going once.”

The murmuring intensified, but any more calls for bids remained silent. 

“Going twice.”

_ What the hell? _

“Sold! Three weeks with the victor Bakugou Katsuki.”

There was a triumphant yell punctuated with a loud voice crack from the center of the audience. “Yes!” 

Bakugou strained his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. Confusion and anxiety struggled for dominance in his mind as he tried to see who his new companion for the next couple of weeks would be. 

_ Why are they so damn excited? _

There was loud apologizing as a short figure with a silhouette of bushy hair stood up and even louder footsteps as they walked down the aisle. The figure came around the bottom of the stage and temporarily out of Bakugou’s line of sight as they climbed the stairs up to the stage. 

_ Who is tha-- _

A mop of curly, dark green hair climbed up the stairs and Bakugou saw that it was a boy. 

_ Oh my God.  _

The boy turned to look at Bakugou and innocently smiled at him, one side of his mouth pulled too far up throwing everything off balance. His freckled cheeks squished up and his big eyes squinted up. 

The boy quickly ran a hand through his hair, tangling it up even more as he walked up to the podium, he quickly tapped the microphone then threw a quick look at Bakugou, “remember me?” He mouthed.

_ Oh my fucking God. _

Bakugou’s mind raced to remember the boy’s name. 

_ Misao? Mistsuo? _

The boy leaned up onto his tippy toes and took a deep breath as if he was about to dive deep underwater, “My name is Izuku Midoriya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments, feedback, or compliments! It is always very appreciated.


	4. A Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midoriya takes Bakugou out for dinner and they get to know each other...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all back at it again. I decided to scrap the slow burn and set this entire thing in fire. Hope you enjoy!

“Holy shit.” Bakugou murmured under his breath as he stepped into the front entrance of the apartment.

Large floor to ceiling windows stood tall, allowing for the most breathtaking view of the Capitol that Bakuogu had ever seen. A million lights shone brighter than the star’s in the night sky. The light poured into the apartment, reflecting across the marble flooring. The entire place smelled faintly of roses. Bakugou was standing in the middle of a man made heaven. The entire apartment was an open layout, so that when Bakugou stepped deeper into, the room’s jaws gaped up even more around, swallowing him whole in all of the wealth. 

“Hey, you can-um step in more! No need to really feel like a stranger.” Midoriya exclaimed as he threw himself into a plush loveseat. The material sunk in around his small frame, almost threatening to swallow him whole. 

“I don’t need your damn invitation!” Bakugou took a few more steps in and dropped his luggage down on the oak flooring. The dull thunk of the luggage hitting the floor reverberated around the apartment and up into the ceiling, causing the crystal chandelier to tremor slightly. “Why is it so quiet?” 

Midoriya rolled over on loveseat to get a better look at Bakugou, “Both of my parents are always busy working, so most of the time it’s just me here.” He gestured to the large room, “All alone...” Midroyia paused and looked down at his hands, he clenched and unclenched his fists. “But hey, I’m really happy to have somebody here now to keep me company!” Midoriya smiled at Bakugou. Bakugou just glared back at him.

_ Damn, I’m only five minutes in with this nerd and I’m already on the verge of losing my fucking mind. How am I supposed to spend three weeks with him? _

Bakugou glanced at Midoriya’s bright smile again. 

_ Always so fucking happy. _

A sudden pang of jealousy swept over Bakugou. He plopped down in a leather armchair across from Midoriya, he glanced over at the large fire that burned in the fireplace. The flames licked and coiled around the logs, gently coating the room in orange light, and yet, no heat radiated from it. 

“Umm, Bakugou? I was thinking about tonight and…” Midoriya started, but then trailed off. He laughed nervously and folded and unfolded his hands. “Umm maybe we could-”

Bakugou sighed loudly, “Just spit it out already. All of you’re mumbling is giving me a headache.” 

“Oh sorry.” Midoriya breathed in and mumbled something quickly underneath his breath.

“For fuck’s sake speak up!” Bakugou yelled. An explosion crackled in his hands.

_ Shit. _

For a brief second, Bakugou’s senses drowned in anxiety. He quickly wiped his hands on his pants.

“Wow! is that your quirk?” Mirdoriya rolled off of the couch and padded across the room. He sat down on the arm of Bakugou’s chair and leaned in close to him. His large, innocent eyes widened even more. “Can you show it to me again? I watched it on the screen and saw the way you used it in the games. Of course your games weren't the first time that I’ve ever seen that type of quirk before or something similar to it, but the power and scale that you have with yours is absolutely incredible!” 

With each word, Midoriya leaned closer and closer to the other boy. His chest brushed up against Bakugou’s arm and a spark of panic went through Bakugou. He turned his head away, praying that Midoriya did not see how red his cheeks had gotten. 

_ Shit. Why am I blushing so damn much? C’mon body he’s just a nerdy Capitol boy. Stop blushing! _

“Jesus.I’ll show you, but first back the hell up. Don’t want to explode your face off or something,” Bakugou commanded. Midoriya scooted further back on the chair and Bakugou felt like he could breathe again. “Okay.” Bakugou whispered. He cupped his hands and a soft spark of orange formed in his hand, then there was another and another. The orange sparks quickly accumulating into a larger crackling. Light grey smoke floated out of his hands. Bakugou scrunched his nose up slightly in concentration.

“Amazing!” Midoriya breathed. “It’s interesting how you produce the hydroglycerin through the sweat glands in your hands which is an unconscious action and yet you can still consciously form explosions with it. Not to mention how you can form different sizes with it, that must take a lot of concentration.” Midoriya leaned in close to Bakugou again. The orange sparks reflected in his eyes. He narrowed his thick eyebrows, “Your face does look like you’re super focused.”

Once again the sudden panic surged through Bakugou, but he didn’t know why. “Get the fuck back!” Bakugou yelled as he immediately extinguished the explosion and wiped his hands on his pants. “Damn it nerd, stop analyzing me like that!” Bakugou growled.

Midoriya quickly leaned back again, “S-sorry!” 

“Whatever,” Bakugou said. “What were you going to say earlier though? Before you’re ass got distracted.”

“Oh! It’s just that I was thinking of things that we should do together on our first night and I thought that maybe going out for dinner would be really fun and nice and we could talk about stuff. Cause you know, I want to get to know my new friend.” 

“Shit, you really had to work yourself up to ask if we should go out to dinner?” Bakugou scoffed in disbelief. 

_ I’m happy that he gave me my personal space again. He needs to learn how to fucking respect it. He freaks me out a little, but as long as he gives me space, I have control. _

Midoriya’s smile fell from his face, but he quickly put it on again, “How does steak sound?” Midoriya said.

“Steak sounds fucking perfect!’ Bakugou’s stomach growled loudly and he stood up, heading towards the door, not caring that he had no idea how to even get out of the apartment building, let alone the way to the restaurant.

“Hey Bakugou wait up!” Midroya called after him.

_ As long as I can keep some space between him and me I should be fine. _

Bakugou glanced behind himself and watched as Midoriya tripped over his own feet as he tried to catch up with him. 

_ I’ll be fine right? Right? _

~~

As soon as Bakugou stepped through the front door of the restaurant, he was immediately hit with the strong scent of meat cooking. Bakugou took a deep breath in, savoring the smell. His mouth watered and his stomach growled loudly. Bakugou tried to think back to the last time he ate anything, but his memory came back blank.

Midoriya strode past Bakugou and up to the hostess who stood at the front, waiting to seat people. He flashed a big smile at her, “Good evening, I would like a table of two for my friend and I.” 

The woman looked up, a mildly bored expression on her face. Her neon pink false lashes slowly blinked. She looked Midoriya up and down. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Unfortunately I don’t, but--”

“Well sorry kid, you’re all out of luck then.” The woman looked back down at the napkins she was sorting. Bakugou’s stomach growled loudly, he looked longingly at the tables at the front where couples happily chatted over plates with smoking cuts of meat. 

_ Damn nerd, can’t he do anything right? Isn’t there a million restaurants in the Capitol? Leave it for him to pick the one that has no fucking tables avialable.  _

“Well actually,” Midoriya shifted his weight onto his toes again. Bakugou groaned. Frustration filled him.

_ Just give up already. _

“I was wondering if you would please try to find a table again, My name’s Izuku Midoriya and my friend is Bakugou Katsuki.” Midoriya grabbed on Bakugou’s elbow and pulled him closer to the waiter.

“Hey what did I tell you about giving me some fucking space?” Bakugou yelled as another jolt of panic sparked through him. 

The woman instantly looked back up again, her eyes widened with recognition. “Oh,” She said. “Well, then I’m sure I can do something for you.” The woman quickly puffed up her large blonde with her hands, “Right this way Mr. Izuku and Bakugou.”

Midoriya smiled, his wide goofy smile, “C’mon Bakugou, let’s eat.” 

Bakugou hesitantly followed behind, hating himself for already being so willing to follow the other boy. The hostess led them through the restaurant and past tables laden with mouth watering food. Several couples broke off conversation to stare at Bakugou as he passed. Bakugou growled at each one of them in response. 

_ Shitty extras need to learn to keep their eyes to themselves. _

The hostess slid open a wooden door and gestured for Bakugou and Izuku to go in, “This is our private room, usually you need to reserve it, but I figured it would be perfectly fitting for men of your stature.”

Midoriya made himself at home and immediately sat down at the table set for two, “This will be more than perfect. Thank you so much!”

_ I get why I get all of the special treatment, I’m a victor, a winner, but why is he being included in all of this? How does he have all of this power over people? _

Bakugou nervously slid down in the chair across from Midoriya. He glanced down at the seemingly endless different utensils that were laid out in front of him. Forks, spoons, and knives of every different size were spread from the left side of the plate all the way down. Bakugou watched as Midoriya unfolded the napkin and gingerly laid it on his lap. He decided stubbornly to leave it on the table, still folded in a crescent shape.

“So how do you like it here?” Midoriya asked, pleasantly. 

“It’s okay I guess.” Bakugou begrudgingly agreed. He slumped down in his seat and spread his legs as wide as the restricting fabric of his pants would allow. He slid his sweaty hands across the side of his pants.

_ Shit. Can’t they ever stop sweating? _

“That's good.” Midoriya buried his nose in the electronic menu that was built into the table. “Red wine might be good…” He murmured to himself, already in his own world. “Yes one bottle of red wine. I think this will be good for Bakugou’s taste.” He tapped on the image of an expensive bottle of red wine.

_ Why is he talking about me like I’m not here? _

Irritation crackled in Bakugou, “Hey!”

Midoriya glanced up from the menu, he raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Enough with the fucking small talk. What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What was up with that lady back there? I know your old man probably does something important for the Capitol. He’s probably some kind of fucking Capitol robot right? Always working away to quote-unquote “better Panem.” I know that only important people could get into the party the other night and I’m pretty damn sure that you need to be pretty important to buy me!” Bakugou Yelled.

Midoriya looked down at his hands, he folded and unfolded his hands. “I can’t tell you.” 

“What do you mean you can’t tell me? I have to live with you for three fucking weeks and you can’t even tell me what your dad does for a living?”

“It’s complicated, okay?” Midoriya said to his hands. “Listen...can you please not bring it up for the rest of the night. It’s just complicated…”Midoriya bit his bottom lip, his eyes slowly watered up. An uneasy silence descended over them.

_ Shit did I make him cry? _

“Hey, hey, hey...uhhh--” Bakugou stopped.

_ What the hell am I doing? I have no idea how to comfort someone. _

“It’s okay?” He continued, his voice rising higher at the end. Midoriya looked up and quickly wiped the tears from his face. A shaky smile came back onto his face. Pride swelled in Bakugou’s chest.

_ Fucking nailed it. _

A waiter came in bringing the bottle of wine and two glasses. Midoriya immediately popped the bottle open and poured himself and Bakugou a healthy amount. Bakugou hesitantly took the glass and swished the dark red liquid around. He remembered what it felt like to be drunk at the president's party.

_ I wonder how much of this shit I have to drink to get drunk. Maybe that would make being with him slightly less painful.  _

Bakugou took a sip and scrunched his nose at the bitter taste of alcohol. Bakugou put the glass down and turned towards the electronic menu. He immediately scrolled to the steak section. His stomach rumbled as he read the different cuts of meat.

Once he had decided on his order, he glanced up and saw with annoyance that Midoriya was still pouring over the menu. His hand cupped his face with his elbow propped up on the table. Bakugou was surprised by how chubby the boy’s freckled cheeks were. When Midoriya saw something interesting, his mouth would pull to the side and a slight dimple would form in his cheeks. Bakugou was so caught up with watching the other boy, that for a second he forgot that he was supposed to be annoyed with him.

Bakugou tapped his foot impatiently, “Hey slowpoke, hurry the hell up and order!” Bakugou complained. He looked at his wine glass and took another sip of it, then instantly regretted it. 

“One second,” Midoriya said. He tapped on the menu and continued to stare at it, “Almost done..”

Bakugou took a swig of his wine. The sour taste was quickly becoming more and more appealing to him.

Midoriya made a final tap on his menu and looked up at Bakugou triumphantly, “Done!” Bakugou sighed loudly in relief. Midoriya took a sip of his wine and closed his eyes, savoring the taste. “This is absolutely delicious!” He exclaimed. 

“Yeah...delicious!” Bakugou murmured as he drank from his glass again.

_ I just need to get drunk off of this shit. _

“Hey Bakugou. I got an idea!” Midoriya said, he leaned across the table. Bakugou could see that he had a particularly large clumping of freckles at the center of his cheeks. 

_ That’s new.  _

Bakugou looked away from Midoriya and refocused his attention down at his hands. He gnawed at the inside of his lip.

“Let’s play never-have-I-ever. I think that would be the fastest way to get to know each other. You know? Since we’re friends now, but let's do it with a twist instead of just saying that you’ve done something, how about you take a drink instead?” Midoriya continued.

“Sure, whatever nerd.” Bakugou said, shrugging his shoulders.

_ Who is he? A teenage girl?  _

“Okay..Okay, I’ll go first! Never have I ever gotten in a fist fight with someone!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and took a drink. In his mind he played a highlight reel of all of the fights he got into over the years. From his very first fight when his quirk had first developed and he had gotten annoyed at a kid for calling him “blasty hands”. To a more recent time last year, when he fought a boy in his class for poking fun at Kirishima’s hair. 

_ There have been other times more recent than that.  _

A cruel voice in Bakugou’s head teased.. 

_ But you just choose to not think about them. _

A painful memory flashed in Bakugou’s mind of him punching a kid till his knuckles were slick with blood. Bakugou quickly shook his head and reached for the wine glass.

“No, no, no. You can’t take another sip till next round.” Midoriya teasingly chastised. “Now it’s your turn to ask me a question.”

Bakugou quickly thought up an example, “Never have I ever cheated on a test.” 

Midoriya didn’t touch his glass. 

“Of course you haven’t” Bakugou scoffed.

“Ha you’re the one talking! You haven’t cheated either!”

“Well that’s because I’m too good to cheat. I was the top of my damn class back home!”

Midoriya laughed, “Okay tough guy!”

Bakugou had to resist the urge to smile, instead he scowled at Midoriya. “Your turn.”

“Okay…let me think.”

The night continued on and they continued to trade questions with one another. Bakugou would take a couple of sips. Then Midoriya would as well. The deep red in their glasses would rise and fall while the wine bottle became steadily emptier and emptier. 

“Oh I got a good one!” Midoriya said as he filled his wine glass up again. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

“Ha nice one, but I’ve never even gone swimming before, let alone naked. Swimming naked is perverted shit.”

Midoriya burst out laughing, “Perverted! okay then.”

_ Hell, I don’t even know how to swim. There’s no large pools of water back home, just mountains and trees.  _ Bakugou thought.  _ But I would never tell him that.  _

A server entered and smoothly served the two boys their food, but Bakugou didn’t even notice. He was too focused on trying to think of what he would say for his turn. “Never have I ever lied about my age.”

Midoriya took a drink. Bakugou raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“L-listen I can explain. There was this really exclusive party that I really wanted to get into and some of my other friends were going, but the minimum age was eighteen. So, I had to lie.”

“You don’t seem like the lying type.” Bakugou said.

For a brief second Midoriya smirked at him, but then he covered it up with a panicked look of guilt, “Well I felt super awful afterward trust me, but the party was really, really cool.There were so many people there and the music was really good!”

Bakugou's stomach growled loudly and he realized that he had a plate of delicious food in front of him. He quickly grabbed one of the forks that looked about medium sized and a knife that seemed sharp enough to cut the steak. Bakugou cut into the meat and he practically felt himself drool as he watched the juices of the meat bleed onto the plate. He took a bite and an explosion of flavor filled his mouth. Bakugou closed his eyes and let the taste wash over him. He chewed, swallowed and immediately cut himself another piece.

_ Fuck this is delicious! _

Midoriya giggled as he carefully cut himself a piece of his own steak. “What's so funny?” Bakugou said in between a mouthful of mashed potatoes and steak. 

“Oh nothing, Kacchan.” Midoriya responded teasingly.

_ Kacchan? _

Bakugou swallowed hard and took a long gulp of wine. “What the hell is Kaccchan?” 

Midoriya’s cheeks quickly turned a bright shade of red. “Oh ummm, it’s just a nickname I came up for you in my mind.” Midoriya mumbled. “I thought it sounded nice. You like how friends make up names for each other?”

“Of course I fucking know what a nickname is, but why Kacchan? It sounds so...so” Bakugou struggled to think of a word to describe just how lame it was. His brain felt like it was processing things in slow motion, “Wimpy.”

Midoriya shrugged his shoulders. He went back to folding and refolding his hands, “I-I don’t know. It just seemed like it fit. Haven’t you ever come up with a nickname for someone before?”

Bakugou thought of Kirishima and how he would tease him and call him shitty hair. He thought about how Kirishima would tilt his head and smile at him, “I know that you don’t mean that Bakugou. You like my hair.”

“Whatever. If you get to call me a lame thing like Kacchan, then I should be able to call you something as well.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” 

Bakugou looked Midoriya up and down. He studied his bright green eyes, like a pine tree in summer and the darker green roots of his hair. He traced his eyes down the gentle curve of his collar bone. Freckles continued down beneath the collar of his button up shirt. Bakugou thought about the boy’s height and how much taller he was than Midoriya. How Midoriya mumbled to himself when he was lost in thought.

_ He’s the exact opposite of me. He’s just so...so different. He wouldn’t last a day in any of the districts. He’s proabably never had to work a day in his fucking life. _

“Deku.” Bakugou grumbled. “That’s your nickname.”

Midoriya titled his head, “O-okay. You know that really isn’t nice, but I wasn’t expecting much more from you. You really can be so mean sometimes Kacchan.” He took a sip of his wine and loosened his tie. Bakugou watched in mild horror as he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. The panic returned inside Bakugou and he felt himself reaching for his own glass to numb it.

_ What the fuck is he doing now? Who does he think he is? _

Midoriya noticed his discomfort. He furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong? Are you hot? I’m feeling hot too! That’s why I unbuttoned my shirt. Kacchan? Hey Kacchan?”

_ I’m too drunk for this. _

“I’m fucking fine.” Bakugou mumbuled. “Let’s just play another round.”

“Okay! It’s your turn to ask me a question though.” 

Bakugou leaned back in his chair and sighed. His mind kept on replaying the moment when Midoriya loosened his tie. A devilish smile formed on his lips.

_ Payback. I’ll make that nerd feel just as uncomfortable as I have felt all night.  _

“Never have I ever Kissed someone after just meeting them.” Bakugou said, he watched with glee as Midoriya’s face became redder than a tomato.

_ Ha! Not even his weird, hidden confidence can help him with this! _

He didn’t touch his wine glass. “Oh..er, ummm. I-I you can’t say I’ve done anything like that really with another person before. So umm yeah.” 

They lapsed into silence. Bakugou cleared his plate and hiccuped loudly. His head felt light and buzzy. 

Midoriya looked at Bakugou suddenly, “I’m assuming, you haven’t done something like that either…” 

_ Shit. _

“Of course I haven’t because I have self-” Bakugou stopped and stared at Deku in annoyance. He could have sworn that Midoriya was staring right at his mouth. “Respect,” Bakugou finished. He instinctively licked his lips.

The silence came back and they stared into each other’s eyes. A strange staring contest took place.

_ Fine he wants to stare. I’m going to do it right back. _

A smile slowly came onto Midoriya’s face. Bakugou could feel the corners of his mouth pulling up against his own will. Midoriya suddenly snorted loudly, Bakugou leaned back and laughter rose up in his throat too. They both burst out laughing. Bakugou’s head felt like it was filled with butterflies. He held onto his sides as he continued to giggle. 

_ What’s even so funny? Why can’t I stop. Whatever, at least I’m feeling good. This is the best I’ve felt in a while. _

~~

Midroiya giggled as he tapped the elevator button to go up. He leaned in close to Bakugou so that they stood chest to chest. Memories of when they danced together flashed through Bakugou’s mind. Bakugou looked down at the boy and at how much of a mess he was. His tie was loosened and his shirt was unbuttoned almost all the way down the front, so that his pale chest was completely exposed.

_ Heh. All of the sudden Deku looks really nice.  _

Bakugou felt a slight smile play on his lips. The elevator pinned and Bakugou pulled Midoriya through the door by his tie. Bakugou looked down at Midoriya and briefly wondered if he should loosen his tie a little bit more. He slowly reached a hand up towards Midoriya’s neck.

“Wait, wait, wait, give me a second.” Midoriya leaned over and hit the bottom for the top floor. The door gently closed and Midoriya turned back towards Bakugou. He looked back up at Bakugou through his thick eyelashes, “Where were we?”

“I was going to do something.” Bakugou said. He placed a hand next to Midoriya against the wall, trapping him against the wall.

“And what exactly was that Kacchan?” Midoriya asked, he giggled again and smiled at him.

“I can’t fucking remember cause I’m drunker than a damn skunk.” Bakugou looked up at the elevator light. It twinkled brightly.

_ Pretty. _

Bakugou looked back at Midoriya. He blinked twice as he tried to think about whether or not he was thinking about the light or Deku. “I knew that I was going to do something though and it was going to blow your shitty nerd mind.”

Midoriya leaned even closer to Bakugou. “If only Kacchan wasn’t such a lightweight,” He teased.

Bakugou wrinkled his face up in annoyance, “I’m not no fucking light weight Deku. Plus I thought I told you to stop calling me that stupid ass nickname,” Bakugou protested. Faster than a flip of the switch, he felt his mood go from happiness to pure anger.

“Hey,hey, hey, there’s no need to get so upset.” Midroriya comforted.

The anger only worsened in Bakugou. The elevator door opened and Bakugou immediately stepped out, leaving Midoriya behind. Bakugou strode across the living room and grabbed his luggage.

He turned to Midoriya, his crimson eyes red with fury, “Where’s my fucking room. I need to get some sleep and my head hurts”

_ Shit. Why am I getting so angry? I need to calm down, but every time I look at him I just… _

“Oh, down the main hall, last door on the right.” Midroiya said, as he pointed the directions frantically. Bakugou saw with annoyance that he looked like he was going to cry. 

_ Why do I always do this? _

“Goodnight Ka-” Midoriya started.

Bakugou slammed his bedroom door shut. He threw his luggage down and flopped on the bed.

_ Why do I have such a talent at fucking shit up? Why do I care so much about what he thinks about me? Why am I such a freak? _

Bakugou curled up in a small ball on the bed. His vision blurred. Something wet rolled down Bakugou’s cheek and he tasted salt on his lips. For the first time in an eternity, Bakugou let himself cry.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, compliments, or feedback is always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave feedback, compliments, or any other comments! I really appreciate it!


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